


Steve Rogers-Strategist/Consultant/Leader

by Angeltigerdragon



Series: Normal Steve [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Depression, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, POV First Person, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 15:28:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9555053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angeltigerdragon/pseuds/Angeltigerdragon
Summary: The Super Soldier serum was not guaranteed to be ever-lasting.





	

                “How is he?”

                “Stabilizing.”

                “What is wrong with him?”

                “….”

                “Well.”

                “It seems the serum’s…dissipating. Or that it has run its course…..”

                “What the damn Hell does that mean!”

                “Sir, it means that Steve Rogers may die if we try to resurrect him completely.”

                “And the other half.”

                “……”

                “Speak.”

                “That he’ll live but he won’t be Captain America.”

* * *

 

Three months.

I have been here three months. The carving lines are not necessary, but they make me feel better. I put the line through the marks, and then continue my sketch. It is of me.

Well, not me. Captain America.

I rub my free hand through my hair. I do not understand what happened and the doctors here cannot explain it either, but from what they think the serum had kept me alive under the ice. By doing so, it-the serum-weakened year by year. Since I was motionless this did not show, but when I started to move and metabolize food the serum burned out. Within days of reanimation I was back to myself.

Kind of. My allergies and ailments are gone; my height is back and so is my weight, but I have felt better since the serum. I can do runs without wheezing and some push-ups. Heh, if I’m lucky I can return to that look.

My hands shake. I stare at the sketch. I crossed out the eyes again. To throw it away will have to be quiet. Director Fury and that woman (Natalie or something) will ask again about therapy. I don’t want that. I want to….

I crumple the paper and shred it. The wastebasket is in the kitchen in suite and I can take it out tonight. I don’t think they rifle through my trash, but just in case I pour my juice on top of the paper and the left over lasannya from a week ago. The hall way to the garbage chute is not long. I still know eyes are on me. Small cameras the size of my hand (current hand) are everywhere.

I drop my garbage and head back to the room. Fury told me of an old-fashioned gym, but I think I am good with the daily runs. No one needs to see me try and punch a bag.

I look at the clock. How odd is it to see the numbers? It says 8:34. I have nothing to keep me from leaving and maybe tonight I can sleep.

 

Choking. Choking and there’s water. Frozen. I can’t stop it. I can’t move. I can’t I can’t I can’t….

                “Ow, wha-ah, shit,” I hiss.

I am on the floor and I have fallen out of bed on my wrist. A bruise most probably and if I were…stop not-not now.

I get up and head to the bathroom. There is a hospital’s worth of first aid. The cabinet above the toilet I have to reach on tip toes and rummage for the braces. There are several types and I take a few minutes to find the one for wrists.

I place the brace on as the directions say and I am unsure if I have it right. I stretch and return to bed.

I won’t be sleeping, but I know there is a camera here. I can pretend.

 

I’m in the modern gym. The treadmill is the only contraption I know how to use and even then I almost flew off it the first time. Fury enters and waits for me to finish my run.

I take a few extra minutes to cool off because I really don’t want to speak to him; like everyone, it seems he can’t escape the glint of disappointment. The once war legend Captain America gone and left with Steve Rogers. At least I’ve gain a few muscles.

                “You should be out,” Fury opens. “Celebrating. Seeing the world outside of here.”

He pulls out a folder. I know what it is. They do go through my garbage. The soiled remnants of my sketches are there.

                “Those must stink,” I huff out. I drink my water. “I went under and a war was on. Now I’m told we won.” I pause. “I’ve some television. What we lost is not what I fought for.”

                “We’ve made a few mistakes,” Fury says. “Some very recently.”

Fury pulls out another folder and hands it to me. Inside are photos and files of…..

                “You’ve got to be joshing me,” I say. “The Tessaract!”

                “I thought you might be able to give us some insight on it, Cap.”

I flinch. Fury calls me that. I would rather he doesn’t. I’m no longer active.

                “Trying to get me out in the world,” I say.

Fury does not mention my flinch. “Howard Stark fished that out of the ocean looking for you.”

                “Yeah, well he should have left it there,” I say.

The emblem of HYDRA stares back at me.

                “I was hoping you could lead a team,” Fury says.

                “I’m not him.”

                “No, but you know what we’re fighting against.” Fury says. “That’s half the battle won.”

* * *

 

                “I was there,” the agent blurted out.

I turned to him, brow raised.

                “When you woke up-I mean I watched you sleep,” he stopped. “Just to, ah, watch over you.”

I nod. The ocean passes us in seconds.

                “I know you must be…” he stops. Rethinks. “I have your playing cards.”

                “Cards?”

                “Collectibles.”

The agent-Coulson that’s it-rummages in his jacket and pulls out faded cards. I take them. The figures are similar to the comic style Captain America. I close my eyes for a second.

                “Sure.”

I take out my sketch pen. For a moment, I’m lost. I look to Coulson and he’s breathing heavier, like this is his Christmas. I swallow with a desert tongue.

I hand the card back.

                _To Coulson_

_With warm regard, Captain Steve Rogers_

 

My mouth hangs open. A flying ship! Not much surprises me, but this does and more will as Fury introduces me to Bruce Banner. I have read about him. To think this man has a rampaging beast inside him is almost incredulous if I had not seen the pictures.

Banner stays in the corner trying to shrink in on himself. An image of me stands in Banner’s place for a second, and then vanishes. I can sympathize with this man. However, my mom taught me to err on caution when dealing with inner monsters.

I hand Fury ten dollars and watch the clouds float with us.

I feel someone next to me. It is Natali-no, that’s wrong.

                “Hi,” I say.

                “Natasha Romanov,” she says and holds out her hand.

We shake and I am relieved I don’t have to ask for her name again.

                “I gotta say, you’re doing better than expected,” she says.

                “I know.” I scratch my neck. “Uh, it’s nice to breathe clearly and eat anything I want.”

Natasha hums. “And still it’s not the same.”

I don’t answer. In fact, I wish she would leave. I know what she means.

My wish comes true when Fury calls us over.

               

* * *

 

                “Captain Rogers will be leading this team,” says Fury.

The table turns to me. I thank my time as a figure head to not curl into the seat. Banner smiles small and Natasha curls her lip slightly. Fury goes over the mission and in my head I form stratagems and contingencies. I need to keep them alive and this Loki sounds like a heavy hitter.

Fury mentions Tony Stark.

                “Stark?” I say. “Howard’s son.”

                “Yes,” says Fury. On screen is footage of a walking armor; it shoots some type of beam and flies off. More footage shows, some of it quite funny. Stark in the suit spelling his name in the sky. Stark letting kids hold the helmet. Stark entertaining at some charity event in the suit.

                “That’s amazing.”

                “Hm. A waste of assets too,” Natasha says.

                “Stark made his choice and the choice was to not be a part of this team,” Fury says, hidden anger bubbling.

 I sometimes wonder if he takes pills. I’ve learned that much of this new world that there is a pill for everything.

The meeting continues and I have enough to work with to hopefully catch this guy.

* * *

 

I stare. I shouldn’t be doing that, but (Oh Lord, I can’t believe I am saying this) Tony Stark is gorgeous.

Yes, he has his father’s eyes and style. Yet, he’s completely different. We haven’t spoken a single word since capturing Loki and he doesn’t know my name.

I will do everything to keep that way.

                “Be careful with that,” I say.

Tony turns to me and smirks.

                “What? Just showing big green Jolly some fun,” he snarks.

                “But you know the danger,” I say. I can’t be anymore but an over cautious agent. I look to Banner and pray he thinks we met already.

                “It’s fine,” Banner brushes off. “I wouldn’t be keeping the Big Guy down if I can’t handle a little prick.”

To this, Tony pricks him again.

                “Quit it,” I say.

                “Look, guy,” Tony says. He turns fully to me and I can smell his cologne. “Just go back to whatever station you have and leave the science to us.”

I roll my eyes. He definitely got his father’s ego too.

                “Tony, I think you don’t what you’re saying. That’s—”

                “Steve!” I practically yell. “I’m Steve Barnes.”

I stretch out my hand and Tony stares at it. Banner is about to open his mouth, but thankfully closes it.

                “I’ll see you on the bridge,” I say.

I sprint and stop in one of the corridors. Sliding down I can breathe. This is not going to be easy.

* * *

 

                “Captain America’s onboard,” says Tony. He is grinning from ear to ear and staring at the door.

I have dreaded this all day. Thor (the Thunder God! Jesus, Mary, and Joseph) watches with rapt attention. Apparently Coulson has a loose tongue when it comes to Captain America.

                “I will enjoy to engage with this Captain of America. For I was unaware Midgard had such heroes,” Thor bellows.

Fury looks, well, furious. He glares at Coulson who grips his jacket pocket. I believe he has the cards there.

I stay seated at the table. There is no avoiding this and when the going gets tough I will face it.

The two stare at the entrance for minutes until they return their attention to Fury and me. Natasha returns and whispers in my ear what Loki is really planning; I feel like swallowing my tongue as Banner stares at us, worried.

Fury clears his throat. “Gentlemen, you have already had the privilege of meeting the Captain.”

Tony stares and I see something. Innocent hopefulness. I can’t how I know, but I remember the kids at those shows who looked up to me like I was the only thing in the world. Tony has something akin to that, but it seems more adult.

My throat constricts. I can feel Fury glancing at me.

                “I’m Captain America,” I say.

Thor looks dumbfounded. He seems to be waiting for a joke, but no punchline is forthcoming.

Tony, however, Tony…looks betrayed.

                “No,” he says. Tony stands up and slams his hands on the table. “NO! Captain America was my father’s greatest creation. He was six feet, muscled, and a hero. You’re….you’re….”

Tony turns ashen as he glares at me. The epiphany must have come on. I want to be sick.

                “I’m Steve Rogers.”

 

Hell broke loose shortly after the revelation. It was not as bad as it could have been. Banner did not Hulk out because Natasha kept him calm. And we were able to get Thor out of the containment before it completely let go.

I count all that as victories and I’ll happily celebrate if not for the surely torn muscles in my arms and legs. I lie in the med bay as they pull the armor off an unconscious Tony. He saved us.

I stare at my burning hands. Tony’s suit had a rocket malfunction and if I hadn’t been there….

It still wasn’t enough. Dammit! If I was Captain America I could have pulled easily with spare time. His heart’s broken. That’s the best way I can understand it. The thing in his chest got damaged as I pulled him through the opening before it started.

I stare on as Banner arrives and starts ordering everyone. I put my hands together and pray despite the pain. And then, they wheel in the body of Coulson.

I turn in the bed, grateful no one has taken notice yet and shake.

 

Fury gives me the crusty blooded cards later. My hands still shake from the past few hours. No one has seen me yet. It dawned on me at some point that outside of Fury’s close circle and the ragtag group that is the Avengers, I am only some random guy on this ship. I am anonymous. To the crew, Captain America is still under stasis.

* * *

 

I sit next to Tony. My wounds are healed. The serum’s not completely gone out of me. The man’s arc reactor-Banner told me-glows bright in this room and I want nothing more than to hold his hand. Tony’s having a nightmare. It is small but the distressed creases in his face and twitching are tells.

                “I have come,” says a low voice.

My heart skips a beat as I turn to see Thor, in civilian clothes, with bandages on him. He looks to me with such a sincere expression.

                “I have come,” he repeats. “To ask for your forgiveness, Captain. For I was once again blinded by my own vanity to see how you are a skilled warrior.” He pauses. “You kept us alive and risked your own for one whom you have met a scant few hours ago.”

Thor kneels in front of me and bows his head.

                “Anyone would’ve done it,” I say.

                “No,” says Thor. “A true hero does it.”

I rub my temple and say, “Look, Thor, there’s nothing to apologize for…we all did what needed to get done.”

                “Do not deprecate yourself, Captain. I should have been wise to my brother’s tricks, but yet again I fall for them. As he knows I will every time….”

Thor _blushes_ and another epiphany hits me. Why he won’t stop his brother and why he doesn’t seem to be able to make a harsh blow. I take a breath and remember that Loki’s _adopted_.

                “It’s okay. We all do stupid things for those we love,” I say.

Thor nods and looks to Tony. I turned too. When did my hand reach his?

                “You understand better than most, Captain,” Thor says. He rises and offers me a hand.

I take it. He leans in and for a moment we are in an awkward embrace.

                “Talk to him,” Thor says. I stiffen in the embrace. “It will benefit you both.”

* * *

 

Obviously, we haven’t talked yet. I’m sitting in a broken Shawarma Emperor with the Avengers.

Thor and Barton hit it off quickly as they devour three shawarmas in one go. I like this Barton. I can see why Natasha was so worried about him. Dr. Selvig sits with us too and explains everything to Banner and maybe how they can prevent this.

I glance at Tony. He’s still got the suit on, without the helmet and he has some sauce on his mustache. A warm fuzzy feeling comes in my stomach. Next to me Natasha leans in and whispers, “You should talk to him.”

Twice I have been told that and I promise I will if it kills me.

* * *

 

Loki is chained up as Thor raises his hammer. The man looks drained and Thor is no better. It is only me and Maria Hill to see them off. Loki glances at Thor and for a brief instant I see regret. Thor is stone faced as he raises his hammer and in a large beam of light they are gone.

* * *

 

The Tower is hideous in my old fashioned art critique, but Tony invited us to live here. I don’t have anywhere else. And…we should talk about what he said. (And me.)

The elevator takes to the 70th floor. I have made peace with how tall the buildings here are. The door _swish_ open to the penthouse where a woman with reddish orange hair. She is wearing a suit dress and smiles kindly at me.

                “Ma’am,” I say.

                “Manners, something needed here,” she says in a jovial voice.

                “My mom taught me,” I say.

                “Good. I’m Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries and Tony’s friend,” she says and holds out her hand.

I take it and smile. This woman makes me think of Peggy. Professional and kind.

                “Steve Rogers,” I say.

                 “I know, here.” She hands me a card, like a credit card, with my name on it. I look at her and she must see the question. “Tony had them made for all the Avengers, even Thor. He thinks this place could double act as headquarters for both his company and the Avengers.”

                “That’s real swell of him,” I say. “But, I’m not an Avenger.”

                “Bull shit, Capsicle,” says a very cocky voice.

Behind Pepper, under the bar, Tony emerges with a bottle of I suppose is expensive wine.

                “You’re the co-leader, you know, next to me,” Tony says. He grins but it does not reach his eyes.

                “I guess.” The card shows what floor my room is on and where to find.

                “I can take you to your room,” Pepper says.

The tension must be palpable.

 

The elevator descends to the 69th floor. It opens to reveal a hall of doors and hallways. I’m about to leave and thank Pepper when suddenly a hand grabs my shoulder.

                “Is there something more,” I say.

                “Tony’s been acting…off. He won’t tell me,” she says biting her lip. “I…we used to date and we broke up on good terms. Except….honestly I don’t think anyone could have kept Tony tied down. And from what Rhodey says, I was the closest. He’s been waiting to meet you.”

                “He has,” I say. My fists clench.

                “I heard. Just talk to him, please,” Pepper says. She lets go of my arm.

I am left alone.

* * *

 

To say I expected Tony to show up as I am unpacking is not accurate. In truth, I avoided him after he came through despite the two of us always being in the same place. The man has a glass of amber in his hands and sits down on the bed as I remove my clothes. The reticence stretches far longer than it must.

I pull out my undershirts and fold them neatly. Tony is looking at his feet. He breaks the reticence.

                “Do you know what it’s like to be compared to someone else? For your whole life, to have this person, who isn’t there be such a huge step from you. Your dad talks about him constantly, how he was his greatest tribute to the world. How his time was too short. How you’ll never be like him. And you don’t care because you’re enthralled by this person, who you know can’t be real. But, you’re still happy to know them second hand.

 He stops to look at me. I look at him. It is the least I can do.

                “Do you understand? My dad practically worshipped you. It was like having a freakin’ older perfect brother. I liked it. I liked thinking maybe if you knew me I could be better. The shittiest thing is that the feeling, the thought never went away. When I heard SHIELD found you…I wanted to drop everything and come see you.”

He stares at me. I stare back. In here, I can see the laugh lines around his mouth and the bags under his eyes. I find him beautiful.

                “I’m sorry,” I say.

                “For what?”

                “For being a disappointment and what Howard did. He was wrong too; I’m Dr. Erskine’s tribute to the world, not Howard Stark. And worshipping wasn’t right. I’m really nothing special without the serum.”

A keening sound arises and I’m worried because it comes from Tony. He throws the glass to the floor and tackles me to the floor. He has his arms around my neck and his face pressed into my shoulder. The shock wears off because I finally come to and feel Tony shake on top of me. He’s sobbing.

                “Shh, shh,” I say.

I pat Tony on the back. With some effort I lift us off the floor into a seated position. Tony curls as much as possible in my lap. It is a bit difficult when he has four inches on me, but I make it work. Tony needs whatever this is.

 

Hours pass it feels like and somehow I maneuver us to the bed scooting my luggage on the floor. Tony clings to me and I don’t want to let go. I am not sure what he wants and I still have not thought of what to say. Petting him and rubbing his back have calmed Tony down.

I smile and for the first time it feels genuine. I’m not him. I’m not Captain America, but I can still do some good for another.

Later, maybe hours, Tony looks up at me. I see the hopeful innocence and a glint of desire in his eyes again. I do something for me and kiss him chastely on his chapped lips. Soon after, Tony dozes off and I am left whole for the first time in seventy years.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Captain America: The First Avenger played twice last week and last night on TV and it got me wondering what would happen if Steve had come out of the ice and reverted back to his old self, the scrawny guy. This is the result.


End file.
